


It happens

by Falconette



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, Erectile Dysfunction, Established Relationship, F/M, kinda nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falconette/pseuds/Falconette
Summary: When Koutaro's mood gets down, it is not the only thing that needs uplifting, if you know what I mean ;)





	It happens

I don’t know if anyone tackled the topic of erectile dysfunctions in Haikyuu before and since Bokuto is the type whose performance greatly suffers under his bad moods, I think it is safe to assume that would not be limited only to a volleyball court. Yeah, it happens ;)

**It happens**

It was not Koutaro's night.

After losing momentum at the outset of the game, his team struggled to keep up, managing to even the score only after three grueling sets. Even so, in the end the physically exhausted and mentally exerted teammates couldn't scrape up enough power for one final, decisive push and their ace's blunders literally killed the morale. It wasn't for the lack of trying, but somehow all Koutaro’s attempts got read and blocked or missed altogether. The more frustrated he got, the more his precision suffered and he kept draining his stamina for nothing. By the time the last whistle blew, the slump of his shoulders said it all.

I watched the game on TV and was not surprised when Koutaro didn't call afterwards as he usually did, nor when he came home straight after showers, skipping obligatory drinks and dinner with his team and coaches. I had a meal ready and he ate in silence after grumbling a hello, while I unloaded the contents of his sports bag into a washing machine. I watched his broad back hunched over a plate in the living room, the TV tuned to some old movie he pretended to watch, and wondered what would Akaashi do in this situation. Koutaro’s best friend always seemed to find a way to get his spirits up, but I was not Akaashi and our home was not a volleyball court.

The fact that Koutaro let the two spheres of his life collide this way made me tad angry. And worried.

I approached him from behind, my palms sliding up his shoulders and gently squeezing the tense muscles beneath. He didn’t react, only continued staring absentmindedly at the screen, seeing nothing. I knew he was playing out the game in his head, all those missed shots, all points he could have scored, every alternative action he could have taken. Reminiscing was a good way to learn from mistakes and be smarter the next time around, but Koutaro didn’t analyze with a cool head. By the way his body twitched under my hands, I could tell he was reliving the emotional part of the whole ordeal, going back again and again to all failures and blunders he had made, making them look absolute and absurdly out of proportion.

If there was one single thing I could wish on my lover it would be perspective.

“That’s it.” he mumbled to no one in particular, reaching the same conclusion as always when something he couldn’t handle happened. “They will kick me off the team.”

I sighed, careful not to sound unconvinced. I had no idea what Akaashi would do, but I could do the one thing I knew he wouldn’t.

“Come to bed babe, nothing you can do about it now, right? And I bet you can still score tonight.”

I smiled and caressed him sensually, trying to turn his mind to new objectives, but he only got up and went to the bathroom to wash his teeth, shaking his head all the way like a man in a trance. “I have lost it, that is it. Over.”

I noticed he left his meal half eaten.

Once under covers, I reached for him in darkness but his body remained unresponsive. By his breathing, I knew he wasn’t sleeping.

“Babe?” I whispered, my palm spread across his chest, feeling his heat pounding. Reluctantly, one of his arms moved and calloused fingers touched my face, the thumb sliding over my lower lip. I licked it playfully and sucked on it a bit, as my hand slid down his stomach. My body shifted closer to his, joining him in our private cocoon under blankets, my lips already kissing the round bulge of Koutaro’s shoulder. My fingers passed his navel and caressed the tender skin over his hips, rubbing in heat in the tired muscles on my way down to his crotch.

Nothing happened.

I cupped his limp member and scrotum tenderly, massaging, simultaneously finding his mouth with mine, my body writhing against his. His kiss was lukewarm and perfunctory, he tried to respond but there was no passion or energy in his movements and no amount of my tactile persuasion made his little friend raise his head.

When Koutaro would feel down before that affected our lovemaking in such a way that instead of conquering and dominating , he would let me gently initiate intimacies and let himself be pampered, but his interest and appetite never wavered. He was usually one nice, strong orgasm away from a good mood. I really started to worry.

After awhile, when the whole situation was becoming awkward, his hand gently cupped mine and stopped my futile attempts to make things happen.

“I am too tired,” Koutaro’s voice was low and flat, with finality I hated in it. He faced the wall, turning away from me, a mountain of his shoulders rising between us. “Can we just go to sleep?”

But he didn’t fall asleep for a long, long time, restlessly tossing and turning.

* * *

The morning light woke me at one point and by feeling my way around, I registered that I was alone in the bed. I found Koutaro in kitchen, preparing breakfast for us unhurriedly, the dark circles under his eyes making his face older and uncharacteristically serious. The gold of his orbs didn’t shimmer in the bright morning sunshine as I was used to seeing and with his hair down, the sunken impression was complete.

“Morning,” he murmured and kissed me on the forehead, the smell of fresh coffee, toast and eggs engulfing us. I hugged his broad frame and, not content with the peck, went straight for his lips. His arms locked loosely around my waist and I pressed on, until he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. It was gentle and nice and… it felt like I was kissing another man.

“Did you eat already?” I asked, nuzzling his neck, wondering what in the world could have depleted _his_ energy and when I heard him say he wasn’t really feeling hungry, I almost panicked.

I took a few steps back towards the bedroom, his hands in mine, desperate to snap him out of it.

“How about we make some room for a big breakfast then?” I winked at him, hoping he would notice the casual way his oversized T-shirt I slept in revealed my shoulder. Usually, far less was enough for him to pick me up and fuck me senseless, but today his gaze was timid and unfocused.

Koutaro followed sheepishly, positioned himself on top of me on the bed and went through all the right motions, but it was clear neither his heart nor his body were in it. Instead of sporting an erection, Koutaro was sweating and frowning, frantically trying to make himself feel things he didn’t feel.

“Let me help.” I eventually whispered in his ear in attempt to please him, my hands already down his sides. His lips stopped working on my neck and his forehead sank to a pillow next to me, his body tense and trembling like a leaf.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me.” His voice was thin and seemed to come from far away, even though he was next to my ear. He sounded scared.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” My fingers stroked the nape of his neck, my brain working frantically, suddenly feeling terrible for pushing him into this. “It is normal, under stress…”

“There is nothing I can do right anymore.” He suddenly sobbed, the vehement trembling in his chest going through me like a current. I was used to seeing Koutaro upset, angry, even sad, but this… never, never like this. He pushed his face deeper into the pillow, powerless to stop the angry, helpless tears. He was taught not to cry, not to show his weak side. _The figure of the ace is one that inspires his allies._ It was a losing battle. When he lifted his head to finally take a breath, his chin was trembling and his throat worked. He pushed his face into a pillow again, clutching at my body like a drowning man onto a raft.

Hey, hey.” I tried to keep the panicky tone out of my voice, cradling his shaking form in my arms. I grasped at straws, clueless what to say or do, “Not true! There is a yummy breakfast you made waiting for us in the kitchen.”

Koutaro’s suddenly stilled, then let out a sad laugh and started weeping for real. With his weight on top of me, I could intimately feel every shudder, every sigh and sob that went through his body. Holding him as he cried was like enduring a heavy, steady downpour that pelted down after a thunder, the kind that took its time and drained every drop from clouds.

Not knowing what to do, I did nothing. My arms held him tightly and I waited patiently . The clouds must have been heavy and burdened, as it rained for a long time.

Afterwards, Koutaro stilled, appearing like he had fallen asleep, but I could tell differently by his breathing that has now become steady again.

“I am not leaving.” I murmured, knowing the question must have been on his mind, as always whenever he went through self-deprecating episode, my fingers gently combing his two-colored locks. “You’re still my ace.”

Koutaro raised his head, his face a mess, the golden eyes blinking at me with shame and a spark of hope. I realized then what Akaashi would have done, so I told him. I told him he is still one helluva volleyball player and that he will kick some assess in the revanche match. Not every game can be perfect. I told him that he was the only man I wanted in my bed and that he doesn’t need to be a machine to please me. No man was perfect. I used the hem of my T-shirt to clean him up, wiping away the wet streaks from his cheeks, loving the way a rekindled gleam was again blossoming in his eyes.

He rested his head on my chest, snaking one of his big arms around my body and using me as a hugging pillow. This behavior was a familiar territory, the way he would act after a mood-lifting fuck, content and almost purring, right before falling asleep. But it was only morning.

“Breakfast?” I proposed, gauging his mood by the level of his appetite.

He gave me one of his brash smiles, his eyes turned up to me under a pointedly raised eyebrow.

“I could definitely eat _something_.”

Then he slid towards the base of the bed and pushed himself between my legs, raising my knees up to clear the path to my heat.

Oh, ohhh, he was hungry alright!


End file.
